738 Days
by lonelybookworm94
Summary: John and Sherlock have been taking care of five year old Annabelle for a month now. On Annabelle's last weekend with her 'Uncles' conflict and tension rises between Sherlock and John and all things left unsaid are out in the open. Post Reichenbach. R&R :)


_**Hello again! Here is another Johnlock fanfic. It's Post Reichenbach and it's sort of Parentlock. Anyway, I hope you like it! It's the first time I've written something like this so please, please tell me what you think! -CH. **_

* * *

"738 days." Sherlock says one afternoon. He's lying on his couch; looking exactly like he had all those years ago when John still lived there.

(It amazed John sometimes, how Sherlock hadn't changed one bit after all this time. He was just as skinny as he'd ever been, he hardly had any wrinkles and his hair…well, John learned to stay away from it. When he'd told Sherlock he'd seen one white hair, he went berserk and spent the rest of the afternoon in the bathroom with the tweezers in one hand as he looked for said white hair. John refused to tell him and it only drove Sherlock madder. "It's _one_ hair, Sherlock! It doesn't matter. Christ!" "Of course, it matters, John. Now tell me where you saw it!" "Sherlock for God's sake." "Tell me John." "No!" They continued fighting the rest of the afternoon until John finally decided to head on home before Sherlock threw him out or tied him to the kitchen table and forced the answer out of him. He'd received a text later that night with a picture attached of one white hair and two words 'Found it.' Just to mess with him, John texted back: 'Surprised you saw it all the way back there.' When his phone buzzed again a second later, he grinned and ignored it. His phone buzzed a couple more times after that but he was far too tired to deal with Sherlock's midlife crisis at three in the morning. It'd have to wait.)

John looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading and frowned. "What are you on about now?"

"It's been 738 days since I…" He looked uncertain for a moment. "…came back."

John looked back down at the newspaper though it was obvious he wasn't reading it. "Ah, yes. What a nice Christmas that was." He said dryly and folded the newspaper, throwing it on Sherlock's empty armchair.

Sherlock frowned, biting on his lower lip, his gaze remaining on the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

John sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I know." He looked at his watch. "Annabelle gets out of school in half an hour. Want to join me?"

At the mention of John's niece, Sherlock's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he sprung off the couch, becoming a blur of movement. "Do you really need to ask?"

John chuckled, a fond expression on his face as he watched Sherlock retreat to his bedroom. With a sigh, he grabbed his empty cup and Sherlock's untouched one, taking them to the sink.

"Come John! What are you doing in the kitchen? God, don't you ever get tired of washing those dishes?" Sherlock appeared in the doorway five minutes later, slipping on his coat.

John rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have to if you'd get off your arse once in a while and do something around here."

Sherlock huffed and waved his hand, dismissing John's words then disappearing down the stairs to hail them a cab.

* * *

Five minutes before the bell rang, the cab dropped Sherlock and John off in front of Annabelle's school. John nodded in greeting to some of the other parents while Sherlock ignored them all as he typed on his phone.

"Case?" John asked.

"No. How do you feel about going to the zoo this afternoon? It's open until 9." Sherlock put away his phone and turned his attention on the doors as the bell rang.

"The zoo? Why in the world would you want to go there? It's full of people, remember? You don't like people or have I missed the sudden personality change?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Annabelle will like it. This is the last weekend she'll stay with you, you know."

The doors burst open and dozens of screaming kids ran through the doors. Sherlock scanned the crowd for Annabelle and was trying hard not to panic that she wasn't out yet, when he saw her. Blond hair with bright blue eyes and a blinding smile that will break a lot of hearts, as John had said. The moment her eyes locked onto John and Sherlock, her whole face broke into a grin and she ran past all the other children. "Uncle John! Uncle Sherlock!"

As usual, John opened his arms but it seemed like Annabelle had another thing in mind. At the last minute, she switched directions and ran straight into Sherlock's legs, wrapping her arms around them tightly. While Sherlock and Anna had grown quite close over the weeks she had lived with John, this was the first time she had done something like this. She was usually way more reserved; especially around Sherlock. But that didn't seem to be the case now.

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at the little girl. John wasn't better at hiding his own surprise but he quickly came off it and a second later, it transformed into a smile and he cleared his throat. "Hey Anna." He gave Sherlock a pointed look.

"Anna." The detective croaked.

She pulled back, smiling widely at Sherlock, completely oblivious of the effect she had on the two men. She raised her hands. "Up, Uncle Sherlock?" Despite her smile, her voice betrayed a little uncertainty and that's all Sherlock seemed to need before he relaxed completely and flashed Anna a small genuine smile that he usually reserved only for John himself(and sometimes Mrs. Hudson).

"Of course." John took her backpack as Sherlock picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly, tucking her face against the crook of Sherlock's neck. Her cold little nose was quickly warming up from the warmth Sherlock was emanating.

All the while, John watched, speechless. He still couldn't believe that this side of Sherlock existed. Of course, he should know better by now than to be surprised by anything Sherlock did or said. He didn't know why he assumed Sherlock was bad with kids. He really wasn't. At first, he'd been weary of letting him meet Anna. But he soon realized what an idiot he's been. Sherlock managed to captivate Anna with all sorts of stories from the start; some that he made up simply for her entertainment and some that had happened to him in the time that he was gone.

Sherlock felt John's eyes on him but he didn't turn around. He was busy listening to Anna recounting what had happened at school. After she finished speaking and as they started walking towards the main road to get a cab, Sherlock whispered in her ear. "Would you like to go to the zoo?"

Anna pulled back from Sherlock so abruptly that he had to tighten his arms around her not to drop her. With wide eyes, she looked at him, happiness and excitement clear on her face as she nodded enthusiastically. Then she turned to John and flashed him her famous puppy eyes that even the grouchiest man on the planet couldn't resist. "Can we, Uncle John? Please!"

John felt like the worst man on earth when he shook his head and noticed the way Anna's face fell and transformed into a pout. "We'll go tomorrow morning. When it's not as cold out. I promise, alright? It's far too late now. I don't want you to catch a cold."

A sigh came from the little girl in Sherlock's arms. "Alright, Uncle John." A pause and then, "Can Uncle Sherlock come with us? I like it when he tells me about the animals…"

It hadn't even crossed John's mind that Sherlock wouldn't join them but by the tense set of Sherlock's shoulders, apparently he was the only one. Fighting the urge to kick Sherlock and roll his eyes, he simply nodded with a smile. "Of course, Uncle Sherlock is coming with. What kind of a question is that?" Annabelle shrugged and pressed her face against the crook of Sherlock's neck once again, hiding from the cold win. Sherlock's shoulders relaxed and John rolled his eyes.

* * *

They went back to Harry's and Lydia's place where John was currently staying to avoid moving Annabelle so much from one place to another. Of course she'd been at Baker Street. Even slept there a couple of times when John stayed with Sherlock because of a case. (Yes, John occasionally helped Sherlock with cases.) She slept in Sherlock's bedroom. Less dusty, she said. John tried not to give that too much thought.

While John prepared dinner, Annabelle was in the living room watching a documentary on Discovery Channel. She used to watch cartoons like any normal five year old. Of, course that was _before_ she met Sherlock who convinced her that cartoons will rot her brain and make her stupid. Now _all_ she wanted to watch was the Discovery channel or the Animal Planet channel. John snorted as he took out some leftovers from last night. He was never going to hear the end of it from Harry. He could hear her now. _She's a child John! She doesn't need to know about WWII or how hyenas reproduce! _

Sherlock who was sitting at the table, drinking a glass of red wine, looked up when John snorted and he frowned. "Something funny?"

John looked up and shook his head, his cheeks flushing just in the slightest. "No, I was just thinking what a good influence you've been on Anna. I mean, you're good. With children." He cleared his throat and turned away from Sherlock to turn on the oven.

Sherlock was glad John was turned away as his own cheeks flushed at the compliment. He took a sip of the wine and shrugged, doing his best to act nonchalant. "I like children. They're honest and innocent and easy to influence."

John turned around with a raised eyebrow. "Easy to influence?"

"I turned a five year old from watching brain rotting cartoons to documentaries. That alone will increase her IQ a couple of notches. My job is as good as done."

"I don't understand why you're so against them. Some of them are quite funny and educational."

There was a pause as Sherlock took another sip then, "I'll pretend I didn't just hear you say that for the sake of our friendship."

John rolled his eyes then he got started on setting up the table. He opened a cabinet then turned to Sherlock. "Hungry?"

Sherlock shook his head and offered a small smile. "No thank you. I ate a full plate of brownies this morning. I think Mrs. Hudson put something in them. I just couldn't stop eating."

John snorted and took out two plates. 'Yeah, it's called hunger, Sherlock."

"Dull." He finished his glass and after John finished setting up the table, he got up and walked over to the living room.

Annabelle greeted him with a wide smile and he sat down next to her while John finished up in the kitchen. Ten minutes later, John called them both to the table and Anna and Sherlock both groaned in unison.

"Come on you big babies. You can watch that later. Sherlock get off your arse. Don't make me come there."

Annabelle giggled when Sherlock made a face and shut off the TV. She climbed all over him and they sat like that in silence until, "Sherlock!" came from the kitchen at which point they both hurried to the table.

John glared at him, though there were traces of amusement and fondness in his face so Sherlock knew he wasn't really in trouble.

They ate in silence and Sherlock kept them company, happy to have the opportunity to spend his evening with John and Annabelle.

"Why isn't Uncle Sherlock eating?" Annabelle asked out of the blue.

"Because he's not hungry," John said at the same time that Sherlock mumbled, "Not hungry."

Annabelle looked from Sherlock to John, then from John to Sherlock and down to her soup. Sherlock could hear her thinking and he almost groaned when he saw her push away her plate and announce in a small voice "I'm not hungry either."

John opened his mouth, ready to try and convince Annabelle to keep eating, but then he stopped, watching Sherlock closely as he got up from the table, opened a cabinet, took out a bowl and put some soup in. He grabbed a spoon then returned to the table and began eating.

John's eyes were wide, his mouth slack as he stared in wonder. Sherlock took a spoonful and slurped the liquid, making Anna giggle then he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

Annabelle frowned, looking at her own plate. When she made no move, Sherlock pushed the plate back towards her and started eating. Annabelle watched Sherlock eat then she looked back down at her bowl and slowly picked up her spoon, resuming her eating.

The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitched and when he looked up at John, he flashed him that secret, genuine smile of his and John's breath caught in his throat, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

If Sherlock noticed John's little trouble with breathing, (Of course he did. We're talking about Sherlock Holmes here.) He didn't give any indication. Aware that Annabelle was watching them like a hawk, they continued eating until all three had emptied their bowls.

After dinner, Anna went to the TV, leaving John and Sherlock alone in the kitchen. John busied himself with washing the dishes, while Sherlock watched him. In Sherlock's opinion dinner had gone well. He had gotten Annabelle to eat and wasn't that the important thing? And yet, the set of John's shoulders told Sherlock that his friend was tense and he couldn't help but sigh.

"What'd I do wrong?" He asked quietly.

John startled at the sound of Sherlock's voice. "What? Nothing. What do you mean?"

"Don't lie, John." Sherlock frowned and walked over to John, leaning against the counter next to the sink, crossing his arms across his chest. "You're tense. It's all in the set of your shoulders. So what did I do?"

"I wish you'd stop deducing me, Sherlock." John sounded tired. More tired than he had been forty-five minutes ago.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock offered and John shook his head, anger building up slowly inside of him.

"No, you're not. Don't apologize if you don't mean it." He sighed. "I know you can't help it and its fine, I don't mind. You know that."

"So what's the problem then?"

"Nothing, I just…"A pause and then John's eyes met Sherlock. "I just wasn't expecting that, all right? You were eating just to make Anna finish her meal. I mean, Christ. You would have never done that before…" His voice trailed off and he looked away.

"No, I wouldn't have." Sherlock confirmed. "But I still don't understand what the problem is."

"There's no problem. You just took me by surprise, that's all." John offered a smile but from the look Sherlock was giving him, he knew he didn't buy it. But he didn't press the issue for which John was more than grateful. _He_ didn't even know what his problem was.

At Annabelle's request, they all sat down and watched a movie just before bed time. It was a Mystery/Crime movie but from the way Sherlock was grumbling under his breath fifteen minutes into the movie, John knew he already figured out who the bad guy was.

John chuckled and rolled his eyes, reaching out and burying his fingers in Sherlock's curls before he could stop himself. Once he realized what he was doing, he froze but Sherlock only leaned into his touch more while also being careful not to wake up the sleeping Annabelle lying in his lap. Swallowing nervously, John forced his fingers to move and turned his attention back to the TV, even though couldn't give a rat's ass about what was going on in the movie.

Out of the corner of his eye, John noticed Sherlock's eyes had closed and he was humming softly, a smile tugging at his lips. John had never seen Sherlock more relaxed before and he felt a weird tugging at his heart.

John snatched his hand back and stood up abruptly, his heart hammering in his chest. No, no, no. He was done with all of that. All those bloody feelings that came pouring out after Sherlock had 'died'. He was done, he was over it. Over his mad genius of a flatmate who could make John smile even when he wanted to do the exact opposite. He was done with worrying about Sherlock every second of the day and wishing he could be with him in case he needed saving. He was done, just done.

John's eyes snapped to Sherlock only to find the detective staring at him silently. John's breath caught in his throat at the intensity of Sherlock's eyes. His cheeks flushed a dark shade of red and he really thanked the heavens that the room was darkly lit, hopefully hiding his embarrassing blush. He cleared his throat and flinched as he loudly broke the silence. He took a step forward and reached out for Annabelle, meaning to pick her up and get her to her room and hopefully escaping the scrutiny of Sherlock's gaze. But of course, he was John Watson and luck has never been on his side.

Before his hand touched Annabelle, Sherlock's hand caught his wrist and John's heart fluttered at the touch.

"John…"

John snatched his hand back and broke eye contact while whispering in a slightly shaken up voice. "Not now, Sherlock."

Not giving Sherlock a chance to respond, John picked Annabelle up and left the room, all the while feeling Sherlock's eyes following him until he was out of sight.

John put Anna to bed, kissing her forehead before turning off the light. He didn't go back to the living room right away instead he leaned against the wall and took in deep breaths, letting them out slowly. He brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair and that's when he realized his hand was shaking. Cursing softly he let his hand drop to the side.

What were the chances of Sherlock ignoring whatever the hell had just happened there? Zero, if the look Sherlock gave John was anything to go by. The longing and the want mixed in with tiny traces of sadness. John let out a shuddering breath. Christ. He had never see that much raw emotion on Sherlock's face and it was all directed at him.

He didn't know what it all mean. Well, no that wasn't true. He knew what it meant but he was just scared shitless. Letting Sherlock back in was a risk he wasn't certain he was willing to take again. A man's heart can only stand so much.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out.

_Goodnight, John. Thank you for dinner. –SH. _

John's face fell as he read the message over and over again. He went back into the living room to find it empty and he had never felt colder and lonelier in his life. He looked down at his phone, his thumb sliding over the keyboard. Should he answer? What would he say? He didn't know what to say. That was the whole bloody problem.

So John went to bed, phone in hand and as he waited for sleep to take over, he kept glancing at the phone's screen, expecting it to come to life with another text. But it never did.

* * *

Saturday hadn't gone as planned. Sherlock had miraculously gotten his hands on a case and he couldn't join Anna and John at the Zoo so they postponed it for the next day since Anna, oblivious to what had transpired the night before, had her heart set out on going with Sherlock as well.

An hour after he'd gotten the text from Sherlock that he wouldn't be able to join them, John texted back.

_Do you need any help? I'm sure Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind watching Anna for a couple of hours. –JW. _

_No, that's alright. It's about time I start getting used to working alone. Have a good day. –SH. _

Sherlock's last text was a blow to John's heart, shattering it in small little pieces at his feet. So that's how it was going to be then? Fine. Hurt quickly turned into anger and he needed a moment to compose himself. No use in letting Anna know what a little jerk Uncle Sherlock was.

John and Anna ended up playing board games, doing puzzles, watching more documentaries and ordering takeout, while John tried his hardest not to stare anxiously at his phone. His bad mood didn't go unnoticed by Anna, however. While doing a 100 piece puzzle, she suddenly turned to John and stared at him until he looked up at her. He offered her a small smile and she frowned.

"Why are you sad, Uncle John?"

John froze and looked down at the puzzle. "I'm not." Anna watched him for a few more seconds then she returned to the puzzle.

Ten minutes later, "Is it because Uncle Sherlock's not here?" She bit on her lower lip, frowning in concentration as she stared down at the piece in her hand. "It's okay. I get sad when Uncle Sherlock's not here too."

John looked at her. "You do?"

She nodded, a smile on her face. "Yes, I love Uncle Sherlock a lot. He's smart. I want to grow up to be smart like him!"

John cleared his throat and nonchalantly rubbed his eyes. "Well, I'm sure he loves you too."

"He told me so."

John's eyes widened. "He did?"

Anna nodded, obliviously.

"When?"

"When we watched the movie last night. You were in the kitchen. I asked him if he'd come visit when my mommies come back and he said 'Yes' and then I told him 'Good because I love you like my daddy' and he said he loves me too."

Annabelle looked up and she hurried over to John, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him a little then hugging him tight, sounding distressed that she'd upset him. "Don't cry Uncle John! I love you too!"

John laughed and hugged Anna tightly, kissing the side of her head. "I know, sweets."

When John had calmed down, they went back to finishing their puzzle but Anna was now sitting in John's lap, refusing to go anywhere further since she was afraid he'll get upset again.

The rest of the day had been uneventful. They ate a lot of junk food that Annabelle just loved and then she fell asleep watching Animal Planet. There were still no text messages from Sherlock by the time John had finished with the dishes.

Swallowing his pride, he decided to text first. He needed to make sure Sherlock would show up tomorrow.

_You will come tomorrow, won't you? –JW_

_Of course, why wouldn't I? –SH. _

_There's been no murder in the papers this week, Sherlock. No robberies, no suicides. No accidents. –JW. _

John had waited ten minutes before texting again.

_Just be there tomorrow. Harry and Lydia are taking her to Rome as soon as they're back. –JW. _

John stared at his phone but there was no reply. Nothing. He gave up around midnight, putting the book he'd been reading on the night table and turning off the light and going to sleep with a heavy heart of his own doing.

* * *

They agreed to meet in front of the zoo at nine thirty. Well, no that wasn't right. John had told Sherlock to meet them there at that time. Still no reply. He didn't know what Sherlock was playing at. It was seriously starting to piss him off.

It was almost close to ten when John checked his watch and his heart dropped when the realized dawned on him. Maybe Sherlock decided not to come after all. How the hell do you explain to a five year old that someone whom she loves as much as her 'daddy' decided to be a selfish prick and throw a tantrum by not showing up.

He took his phone out of his pocket angrily, meaning to call Sherlock when he heard Anna squeak and run away from him. John followed her, turning in the direction she was running to, to see Sherlock smile widely at her and pick her up in his arms as soon as she was close enough. He held Anna up in the air as if she weighed nothing until she started squirming. Then he brought her close to him, against his chest and her arms closed around his neck as she hugged him tight.

Sherlock met John's eyes over her shoulder and John found himself smiling for no apparent reason, forgetting for a moment whatever was going on between him and Sherlock. He was honestly just glad that he showed up.

Sherlock started walking towards John and when he was close enough, he raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think I'd show."

"You're almost a half hour late, you know."

"Not my fault. Cabbie took the wrong turn and got lost. Honestly, how people can be so moronic and be allowed to drive is beyond me."

John chuckled and they walked inside. Sherlock let Anna down and John picked up a map. "Alright, let's see. What route are we taking?"

* * *

Almost seven bloody hours, John unlocked the door to Harry and Lydia's place and walked inside, barely able to stand. Sherlock followed, looking just as worn out with a sleeping Annabelle in his arms.

"I'll put her to bed," he said and walked past John. "You sit down before you pass out."

It had taken a little bit of convincing Annabelle to let go of Sherlock when he tried to put her to bed. Sherlock couldn't understand why but he didn't pay it as much attention as he normally would have. He was tired as hell and his whole body was aching from carrying Anna around the zoo whenever she got tired. John volunteered to carry her but Anna refused since she couldn't see her surroundings as well because John was shorter.

Prying her fingers gently out of his curls, Sherlock then bent to kiss her forehead and whispered 'Goodnight'. He turned the light off but left the door cracked open.

Back into the living room, Sherlock frowned when John was nowhere to be seen. He heard some sounds coming from the kitchen and he almost cursed.

"What are you doing?" He asked from the doorway. He'd seen how exhausted John had been just minutes before. Couldn't the man just take a break?

John looked up at him and flushed a dark shade of red as he held out a pie. "I got hungry. It's far too early to go to sleep Sherlock. So don't look at me like that."

"So take a nap. I know your shoulder's hurting."

John sighed and ran a hand over his face, ignoring the stab of pain in his left shoulder. "Since when do you care?"

Sherlock blinked. "What?"

"So why'd you run away on Saturday?" John walked closer to him and Sherlock took an involuntary step back.

"I'm not the one running away, John." Sherlock responded in a controlled voice, watching John with a guarded expression on his face. "I was giving you space."

"How considerate of you," John replied dryly.

Sherlock frowned. "What do you want from me, John? If this is about what happened –"

"It's not about that."

"It'll always be about that!" Sherlock snapped, losing the cool façade. "You've been tiptoeing around me for two years. Ever since I came back. You say we're fine but we're not fine, are we, John? Because we never really talked about it. I tried and you shut me out every time." Sherlock laughed but it didn't reach his eyes. "Ignoring it won't make everything magically better."

"Talking about it won't either."

"You don't know that! That's the problem," Sherlock took a step closer to John this time, his eyes pleading with John to understand. "You never bothered trying. You used to…" Sherlock swallowed hard. "You used to care."

John's face paled. "_You_ are accusing me of not caring? I don't think you understand what it felt like seeing you jump to your death!"

"No!" Sherlock was downright angry now. His eyes were wild, his breathing out of control as he backed John against the counter. "You don't understand! I had no other choice! You would have died!"

"Well I'd rather be dead than having to live without you!" John clamped his mouth shut, his eyes wide at his own admission.

Sherlock stared at him, unblinking almost and John was certain he was seeing right down into his soul. A shudder ran down his spine and John unconsciously licked his lips when Sherlock took another step towards him, pressing his body against his and leaning forwards, his breath ghosting over John's lips. "Then why are you fighting me, John?" Sherlock's lips barely grazed his and John found himself unable to breathe. "What are you afraid of?"

And just like that Sherlock pulled away from him. The cold that settled over John the moment Sherlock moved away was like a shock to his system and John opened his mouth to speak but it was already too late. Sherlock had taken his coat and left.

_What am I afraid of?_

John stared at the ground and the bloody answer the so obvious that he felt hysteria welling up from deep inside of him. Grabbing his phone off the kitchen table, John typed up a reply to Sherlock's question with shaky fingers.

_Losing you again. _

He didn't sign it. He didn't have to. Sherlock would know what it meant.

* * *

They didn't speak the next day or the day after that. Sherlock stopped texting and John stopped going to Baker Street after work. Saying goodbye to Annabelle the next morning had been hell. She was crying and refused to let go of John. Harry and Lydia seemed to be at a loss of what to do. Annabelle hadn't behaved like this when they left.

She got tired after two hours of clinging onto John and she fell asleep. When it was safe, Lydia plucked her from John's arms and went to put Annabelle to bed.

"Okay, what's going on? You look like death."

John ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "Nothing I'm just tired. Didn't sleep well last night."

"Had a domestic with Holmesy boy?" She grinned.

John swallowed hard. "Much more than that." And her grin disappeared.

After he said his goodbyes, he took a cab home. Only when the cab stopped in front of 221b Baker Street did John realize he had given the wrong address. He apologized and gave the cabbie his home address and refused to look out the window, missing the tall figure standing in front of the window upstairs, staring down at the cab that stopped, and praying it brought John Watson home.

This silent treatment between them went on for about a month or so and it would have gone on for much longer if John hadn't decided to stop at Tesco on Christmas Eve. The store was almost empty at this time of night for which he was grateful. The less happy couples he saw, the better he felt. (He told himself)

He was walking along the liquor aisle when he noticed a familiar shape from the corner of his eye. Tall, dark coat, curls, long, bony fingers wrapped around a wine bottle. John turned, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Sherlock before him. He wasn't prepared for this. He had absolutely no idea what the hell to say or do.

Sherlock must have felt someone's eyes on him because he turned and a second later, he was looking straight at John, eyes wide, obviously surprised. He then turned back around as if meaning to run away but John done running.

"Wine? Got a date tonight?" He spoke loud enough for Sherlock to hear him as he started walking towards the other end of the aisle.

Sherlock tensed and turned around, looking down at the wine bottle as if he had no idea what he planned to do with it. He shook his head and John came to a stop when he was close enough to touch Sherlock. "Thought I'd get drunk. You know I don't need much for that."

John smiled fondly. "I know."

Sherlock looked up then away and cleared his throat. "What about you? What are you doing out?"

John looked down at the bottle of vodka in his hand and shrugged. "Doing the same thing as you actually; but with something stronger."

Sherlock nodded curtly and they stood there in silence. Sherlock looking down at the wine bottle in his hand as if it was the most interesting thing in the world and John looked at Sherlock, trying to commit to memory every inch of him.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Happy Christmas, John." He said softly, not quite making eye contact and walked past John, his body stiff.

John opened his mouth and turned around, calling out after him. "Hungry?"

Sherlock froze in his tracks and for a moment John thought he'd keep walking but then he turned half way around and smiled at John. "Starving."

_Yeah, we'll be alright. _


End file.
